Harry Potter & the Cursed Panties of the Muggle-Born
by SpankFiction
Summary: When Hermione develops an odd new study habit, Harry suspects the Slytherin House may be somehow involved. This new adventure will stretch them to their limits... and if they aren't careful, it may tear them apart. Contains descriptions of 18 adults receiving spankings and wedgies, as well as other mature content.
1. Chapter 1 - To Help Her Concentrate

**Chapter 1: To Help Her Concentrate**

"I honestly thought I was going mental," Ron says as he climbs the shifting staircase, his black robes swishing across the marble. Harry leads him by a few steps, carrying a stack of books against his chest.

He adjusts his round-rimmed glasses, and they flash under the dazzling light of hundreds of floating candles. "Plenty of people talk to themselves, Ron."

"But they don't talk _over_ themselves, now do they? Here, let me help you with those." As they turn down their corridor towards the commons, Ron tries to take part of Harry's stack of books, but Harry waves him away. "Really, I could give you a hand —"

"I'm fine, Harry says quickly. "Are you sure it wasn't your mother talking to her? They may sound similar through the wall."

Ron scoffs. "If Ginny raised her voice like that to our mum, I'd have heard the wooden spoon next." He shakes his head. "No, I'm sure of it: I heard two Ginny's giving each other hell. Don't know how or why. But I know what I heard."

"_Limpid pools_," Harry intones the password softly, and the lady in the portrait nods politely, stepping aside.

"On my life, it was as clear as day: I heard Ginny talking, and then Ginny cut her off! Bloody mental, it was," Ron continues as they cross over the threshold and up the steps to the common area. He's essentially speaking to himself, since Harry appears to be deep in thought, his dark eyes brooding, eyebrows knit. They both stop, however, when they discover Hermione in the common area, seated at a desk on the left wall, her quill scratching frantically. Of course, it's not an uncommon sight: they're all in their 7th year, and even under the threat of the most powerful evil sorcery the world of magic has ever known, Hermione has _always _put her studying first. She older now - prettier, too. She has her wild, curly hair tucked behind one ear, and her white blouse fit nicely over her breasts. Her tie is on the desk before her, resting beside a massive tome, and her top button is undone.

It takes both of them a moment before they realize anything is amiss.

Then: "Hello, Hermione, are - wait...is that?...are those - Are those your _knickers_?"

And so they are. Standing straight out from her gray skirt, at an angle almost perpendicular to the floor, Hermione's modest white panties are suspended in midair. The leg holes are peeking out from the top of her skirt, and the crotch has formed a deep and uncomfortable looking wedge. The waistband is folded, as though an invisible hand were straining the elastic.

Hermione looks up and shuts the book in front of her. Her freckled cheeks are flushed, and she doesn't meet their eyes. "Oh, h-hello. I thought you'd be in Potions." Her eyes narrow. "...why aren't you in Potions?"

"We're skipping to prepare for the next D.A. meeting," Harry says. "But, really though - why is your underwear - not...under?"

As Ron steps forward to investigate, Hermione's blush darkens. "I-it's...just a wedgie. I-um...I'm giving it to myself."

Ron straightens up when he hears this, and he exclaims: "Bloody hell! You did this to _yourself_?"

"I...yes." Hermione straightens her back and, for the first time, meets Harry's eyes. "It-it helps me to concentrate. On my studying."

Harry and Ron exchange a dubious glance. "_This_ helps you concentrate?" Harry scratches his head. "Seems a bit...weird."

"Weird? It's more than weird, it's bloody mental! Who can study with their underwear six inches deep in their bum?" Ron says.

"Oh, and just what exactly would you know about studying, Ron?" Hermione snaps. "You never do it, anyway - look at the two of you, skipping class! You don't think you'll need to know a thing or two about potions to bring down Voldemort?"

Ron is too preoccupied to even wince at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-named. He leans closer to Hermione's enchanted panties and plucks at the waistband. It makes a satisfying _strum _sound. "Bloody hell," he says beneath his breath.

"Don't do that!" Hermione swats his hand away, then smooths down her skirt. "It feels...weird." Her cheeks are still deeply scarlet, and she nervously fidgets with her skirt hem.

"I honestly don't care if you want to study with your wand stuck halfway up your arse," Harry says. "We've got more important things to worry about. Voldemort is still out there, growing in power, and no one else is doing anything to stop him. So pull your underwear out of your bum, Hermione, and Ron, pull your head out of your rear. We're meeting in the Room of Requirement, whether you're with us or not." Darkly, he storms into his quarters and drops the stack of books beside his bed. He tucks it underneath with the side of his foot, hangs his robes onto the hook, and strides out of the room.

Ron and Hermione watch him go in silence. After the portal closes, Hermione makes a small and dismissive, "Hmph." She shifts daintily on her stool cushion and resumes writing. The panties remain floating in air, standing straight at attention. Ron eyes them for a moment, a question clearly on his lips.

"Yes, I like the feeling, Ron," Hermione says irritably, as though sensing his eyes on her. "Now, don't you have a meeting to sod off to?"

Ron looks hurt, then narrows his eyes. He storms into his quarters, throws his robes onto the bed, and rolls up his sleeves. "I'd say I'm good and ready for everyone to snap out of their angsty little snits," he mutters beneath his breath. Before he turns to leave, he calls back: "I'd have told you to stuff it, but you might like the feeling of it!"

"Ron," Hermione says in an earnest voice. Ron turns partially, listening from one ear. "Don't...don't tell anyone. Okay?"

A long pause. Then finally:

"Thats just what we need, innit? One more secret. Alright. I won't."

The portal shuts. Hermione looks after him, biting her lip. The crimson color begins to recede from her face. She turns in her chair and looks at her panties with an unreadable expression. She sighs and opens her book once again.


	2. Chapter 2 - Enough Dueling for One Day

Harry drags his shirt sleeve over his forehead to mop the sweat from his brow. The DA meeting has only been underway for half an hour, and he's already feeling weakness in his knees. _I'll have to have more stamina than this_, he thinks before setting his teeth and calling out over the din of spell practices: "Alright, everybody! We're going to practice some duels, so make two lines, here and here. Ron, draw a square on the floor, make it about ten feet. Let's go, go!"

The young recruits of Dumbledore's army rush to take their positions. Harry can't help but grin as he sees the progress he's made. This group started at half the size - now there are at least forty young wizards and witches gathered. Before long, they'll be a force to reckon with.

His ears prick up as he hears the door to the Room of Requirement open. All heads turn to see the twin sisters, Pavarti and Padma Partil, enter with their eyes downcast. They both have their hands clutching their bottoms - which, Harry and other boys have noticed, have grown noticeably larger and rounder since they were all 5th years.

"They were in Umbridge's office," Luna Lovegood says from beside him.

Harry nearly jumps a foot in the air. "For god's sake, Luna," he says, clutching his chest. "How do you get so close to me without making any noise?"

Luna ignores him. "I saw them taken in by that horrid suit of armor she has taking people around. That was hours ago, though." She looks thoughtful, her blue eyes wide, her voice soft and dreamy. "I wonder what happened..."

"Is that true?" Harry says sharply.

Both girls nod.

"Well, I hope you weren't followed."

"No, we weren't," Pavarti blurts out. "I knew it was a risk, but I made absolutely sure of it." She gives Harry and Ron a sideways smile. "We wouldn't miss this for the world."

Harry nods, returning her smile with his own. His own smile is a ghost, a glimpse of his boyhood grin. "Right, then." He turns to the group. "Who's going first?" There's a clamor of voices as everyone volunteers at once. Harry scans the room. Finn has his wand confidently hoisted in the air. At the other end of the ground, that Padma is silently raising her hand.

"Finn. Padma. Start us off."

The duelers get in their positions. At Harry's call, Padma draws and fires a bolt of violet from the tip of her wand directly into Finn's chest.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Finn falls backwards, and his wand flies from his hand and clatters to the ground.

"Good work, Padma. Watch her footwork - see how her shin is positioned, like so? Alright, next."

A scrawny blonde underclassman steps out from the crowd, his robes clearly hand-me-down, as the shoulders drape off of him like folded wings.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Again, Padma's opponent falls to the ground with a dull thud. Several 3rd years have to work together to carry him out of the boundary, and Harry stoops down to take the rogue wand. "Excellent, again." Padma smirks, positioning her wand for the next victim.

Next is Lavender, who holds her wand above her head.

"_Petrificus totalus!"_

Lavender is struck, but only partially. She turns on her heel and tries to fire back, but her wand tip is jammed into the fabric of her robes. She curses loudly and begins to fall.

Padma drops her shoulders and takes a few sashaying steps forward. She lines up her wand, placing her foot out with the toe facing her incapacitated foe. Her face is supremely confident, even smug.

But Lavender has a plan. She wrenches her hand out of her cloak and holds steady with her eyes fixed on Padma's face. The second Padma's lips move, she slices her arm through the air and cries, in a voice louder and bolder than Padma's: "_Stupefy_!"

"_Expellia-_" Padma is caught in the chest, and the force of the spell turns her for a full spin. She staggers backwards, one step, then two, before falling forward onto her knees with her hands at her side. The crowd issues a soft gasp.

But Padma isn't done. She holds her wand between her legs - her thin-fitting black pants offer no barrier, unlike Lavender's robes. As Lavender advances, Padma tucks down, jabs her arm and cries out, "_Incendio!_" A ball of flame leaps swiftly from the tip of her wand, headed directly for Lavender's midsection. There is a sharp intake of breath from the crowd. Harry frowns. _A fire spell during a practice duel? Is she insane? _He opens his mouth to intercede, but Lavender cuts him off.

Lavender's voice is like a dogs bark as she swings her arm across her chest: "_Protego!_" The fireball dissipates, and as the smoke clears, she launches a fire spell of her own - straight at Padma's upraised backside. "_Incendio!_"

"No!"

Harry lifts his wand and casts a wordless protection charm just as the flame is going to meet Padma's bottom. The flame, hit by full force of blue wind, is redirected, leaving a charred circle on the floor beside a sixth years feet. Everyone exhales, a sigh of relief - only, the protection spell has had an unintended consequence. Instead of only hitting the fire, it appears Harry's charm grazed Padma's dress pants, ripping the thin fabric clear off of her lifted heinie. The seat of Padma's pants flies clear across the room in a single sheet, revealing Padma's bare behind to the forty onlookers of Dumbledore's Army.

"Bloody hell!"

"Look'it that -"

"Harry, you've blown her pants clear off!"

"Wicked!"

Harry grimaces and snatches a spare robe from a first year and rushes forward to cover Padma up. Although he's quick, he isn't quick enough to prevent everyone from noticing that Padma's cocoa-colored bottom has been traced with dark red lines in a crisscrossing pattern. Whispers begin to circulate through the room as everyone sees and notes that Padma's lovely brown behind has been quite recently - and quite severely - caned.

"Alright, everyone, that's it!" Harry says as he drapes the robe over Padma. Pavarti, Luna, and Ron are immediately by his side. "Back to your dorms, the lot of you," he declares. Students begin to jostle each other towards the exit, many of them turning, hoping for one last glimpse, until Harry roars, "Get _out!_" and raises his wand. Everyone scampers away, and Harry turns back to the others. Then, looking down at Padma, who is sniffling softly, tears shining at the corners of her eyes as she grabs her roasted bottom, he mutters:

"I think that's quite enough dueling for today."


	3. Chapter 3 - Leave the Marks

Padma rests on her side with the robe wrapped around her waist. Her sister takes her by both hands and lifts her to her feet. They embrace each other tightly, Padma with one hand holding the robe to keep it from slipping.

Then Pavarti steps back and places a hand on Padma's shoulder. "Let then see, Padma," she says. Pavarti begins to unbutton her own pants.

"Pavarti!" Padma says, eyes wide as her sister undresses from the waist down, revealing white panties and dark thighs.

"They know what happened anyway," Pavarti says, matter-of-factor shrugging her shoulders. She tucks her thumbs into the waistband and peels her underwear off too. "Don't you think they should see what we're up against?"

As she straightens and steps out of the leg holes of her pants and knickers, she gives a small sigh, like a dog who has found his place at the master's feet. Seeing her sister's confidence, Padma joins her, releasing the robe and dragging her ruined pants to the ground.

Harry, Ron, and Luna exchange glances. As the sisters turn to show the aftermath of their spankings, Luna covers her mouth with both hands. Harry's face twitches, and Ron murmurs a curse under his breath.

Padma and Pavarti's twin behinds are striped with bold, vermillion lines - a sore and angry red that crosses and overlaps at their tender sit-spots, extending across their cheeks as though in a contiguous streak, lighting their dark haunches halfway down their thighs. It must have been a real thrashing - both girls still have heat pouring off their spanked bottoms, as though Lavender's _incendio _ had struck them both.

"Dragon bogies," Ron says, curling his lips. "What'd you _do_?"

"Nothing at all!" Padma insists. "We were in the lavatory, and Umbridge said we'd been there too long. I told her we'd only just got in, and that's when Umbridge called that..._golem_ to take us to her office."

Harry can't help but shiver at the mention of Umbridge's lifeless manservant: a Slytherin-crested suit of armor that obeys her every demented command. Students can hear it clanking through the hallways late at night, enforcing the curfew. "That thing is really horrid," he says, swallowing hard. "And is that what...did it?"

Pavarti nods. Padma looks down at the ground as her sister retells the story of their caning.

"She had us bend over the desk with our hands flat. We didn't know what she was going to do...Dumbledore never would have done something like this, so we didn't know what to expect. All she did was wave her wand, and we couldn't move - it was as though we were stuck to the table, although it wasn't a petrification spell...I don't know what it was. Then she said -" She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip, as though the remembering could sting. "She said, 'Have you ever been spanked before?' And we said no. So she told us, 'Brace yourself, girls. There's no sense going easy on first timers, since your parents should have done this already.'"

She looks up to meet eyes with Harry, tears brimming. "First, she used her hand. The..._spanks_ were not so bad. But it was very embarrassing, especially when she pulled down our pants and our drawers. And then...Then the _golem _came to have its turn. I have never felt such a pain, I tell you. The way it swung the bleeding thing -" She shakes her head. "Was like...was like..."

"Thunder," Padme says softly. "It sounded the way thunder sounds, and every crack - it _felt _like thunder, too. I thought the cane would break. We were crying so much..." She bows her head, her hands going back to rub her sore bottom, her thin fingers touching the marks gingerly.

"Is this really allowed, Harry? Can she really be so cruel?" Pavarti speaks earnestly, and gestures to the stripes on her well-spanked tushy. "Surely the ministry cannot allow this!"

"Many wizardry schools would spank students as a punishment, years ago," Luna says. "Some families still spank, even in the muggle world." She shrugs her shoulders. "I was spanked. By my father. Mostly for coming home late from the pugsa-balg fields, where I would watch the Toopilsa use their tusks to mash up deerete melons."

She looks up to see everyone's eyes fixed on her, their expressions blank.

"It's actually quite beautiful," she says.

"Alright, well, all of _that_ aside," Ron says, blinking away his irritation, "I don't think the ministry is going to help us with any of this, and I don't think we should try to get them involved. With things as they are, they'd take us _all _in for a caning."

Harry grunts in agreement. "I'm also worried that Umbridge was targeting you because she suspects something. Students in DA are always getting called in to the office for no reason at all." He raises an eyebrow. "You didn't mention anything, did you?"

Padma and Pavarti vigorously shake their heads. "No! Of course not!" Padma exclaims.

"We'd never dream of it." Pavarti says simply.

"Good. But it's only a matter of time until Umbridge starts asking the right questions - and with tactics like this, she's bound to get someone to talk." He turns to Luna. "You said you've been spanked - is there anything we can do to combat this?"

Luna looks to the ceiling for a moment, her hand thoughtfully on her chin. Then she snaps her fingers. "I have some pureed dereete melons! They make an excellent soothing balm. It would help with the soreness, and even the color." She looks again at the girl's seared backsides. "I'd say your bottoms would be back to normal by tomorrow, if you applied some now."

The twins are suddenly morose. "No," Padma says. "We can't."

"You can't? Why not?"

Pavarti looks at the floor. "Because Umbridge is making us come tomorrow and show her the marks. She told us the soreness is part of the punishment. And she says that if we tried to use magic or anything to heal, she would know - and she'd cane us again. Naked, this time."

"In the Grand Hall," Padma adds, once again clutching her own bottom with both hands, as though to protect it.

Harry and Ron exchange glances once again. It appeared things were becoming quite serious. Although, truth to be told, seeing the pretty Patil sisters spanked bare-bottom with their breasts out wouldn't be the most unpleasant lunch-time entertainment. They could never explain it to Padma and Pavarti, of course, but the thought of them stuck to a desk, getting hard swats on those perfect, sun-kissed bottoms from a merciless golem and bawling their eyes out - well, let's just say there's a part of them both that wishes they'd been there to see it.

_Maybe with the invisibility cloak we could -_

Harry shakes his head to clear out the thought. Whatever thoughts he and Ron might have about it, the much larger part of him knows Umbridge won't stop at spankings.

"We'll have to tell everyone to be extra careful not to break any rules," Harry says. "It's not worth the risk right now, no matter how ridiculous the rule might be.

"This school really is the wrong way up the flue," Ron sighs.

As the girls stoop to pull up their panties and slacks, Luna steps forward to wrap them both in a hug, going on about how she knows how they feel, and how they'll all get through it together, like the children in some fairy tale she really likes which, of course, no one's ever heard about.

Ron rolls his eyes, but joins in the comforting embrace - when he points out that, "Both your bums look quite nice toasted, actually," the girls take turns boxing his ears. "Ow! Ow! Blimey, can't any of you take a compliment? Ow!"

Harry chews the inside of his lip, deep in thought. _If Umbridge really does suspect us, we're going to have to be much more careful. Starting by not doing anything to give her an excuse to punish us, like skipping class._

_Although, on that count,_ he worries, _we're already too late..._


	4. Chapter 4 - Feels Quite Nice, Really

A gust of crisp, Autumn air greets Ron and Harry as they thrust open the doors of to the lower grounds. The lawn is lush and the incendiary colors of the leaves, drifting lazily to the ground, contrast their own urgent footsteps sounding across the stone walkway down to Hagrid's hut. "Can you believe it, Harry?" Ron says in a hushed tone.

"That Umbridge caned the Patil sisters like that?" "No, no," Ron says, shaking his head. "That they let us see their bums like that? I mean, really," he continues, even as Harry rolls his eyes. "Sticking 'em out like that and all, I think they wanted us to say something about 'em..."

"Get hold of yourself, Ron," Harry says with an edge of disdain in his voice. "Now, remember: the keys are probably in Hagrid's pocket, so I'll be needing you to swipe them while I talk. Can you keep your wits about you for that long?" He's talking about the enchanted grounds keys Hagrid uses to lock away magical items in various sheds and dungeon lairs - the keys cannot be copied, (the boys recently learned) or the copies will come alive and try to force themselves into the counterfeiter's nose or ears. They still have a quivering key trapped in a jar beneath Harry's bunk from their last attempt, and they still hear it jangling from time to time. They need the original so they'll have access to Hagrid's many illicit beasts and birds of the magic world.

Ron looks cross, then sighs. "Fine," he says. "But honestly, I don't know when you got so dull."

Later, as he's reentering their shared bunk room alone (Ron has gone off with Finnegan to the Three Broomsticks for a drink to celebrate their successful pilfering of the keys), Harry hears the words again in his mind, and a smirk twitches at his lips. _I don't know when you got so dull_. "Oh, Ron," he mutters to himself, "if only you knew."

He locks the door behind him with a whispered incantation, then waves his wand to the room and says in a clear voice:

"_Lumios_!"

At once, each of the lanterns hung upon the wall comes to life, illuminating the room and the completely naked figure on his bed: Luna Lovegood. She's resting on her side, her hand supporting her head, and she smiles at him invitingly as he puts his robe on the coatrack and sets his glasses on the nightstand with a soft _clack_. She rolls down onto her belly and places both hands beneath her chin. "You always know how to enter a room, Harry."

"You always know how to greet me," Harry says, stepping forward and clap both hands against Luna's bare buttocks. She squeals happily and turns as his mouth meets hers, a blithe kiss. She brings up one knee and brushes his side - he strokes the inside of her thigh for a moment, then, with the motions of a mad man, sets to unbuttoning his shirt and pants.

"Ah ah ah," Luna says, grinning, wagging her finger and then placing it against his chin. "I believe you have something for me first?"

"Oh, err, yes," Harry fumbles. He stands, and she turns again to be on her belly. Luna raises her lilywhite haunches, taunting him with their roundness so that he can't help but nervously like his lips. He reaches desperately under his bed and pulls out one of the books he'd borrowed from the library earlier. It's titled _Juniper's Solace _and bound in a tawdry red hardcover. He opens the book with one hand, allowing the pages to cascade over each other, and reaches over it with the other; "_Accio spoon_," he says in a commanding voice.

From the pages of the book, a sharp flash and dull _thwack! _issue forth, and something clatters across the floor. Harry stoops to pick it up: a wooden spoon, one that would be at home in any muggle kitchen. But of course, the purpose of this particular spoon would be lost on most families.

"I'm ready, Professor Partridge," Luna says, bracing on her elbows. She wiggles and looks over her shoulder as Harry admires the heft of the spoon in his hand. "You can punish me now."

Harry eye's are fixated on the twin globes of Luna's bottom, as bright and pallid as the moonlight entering the room in shafts through the window. Between them, a dark brown eye winks between her breaths, as her soft body rises and falls at quickening pace.

Blinking, Harry grips the spoon tightly. "Ah, and..." He opens the book to a random page and reads. "Uh...'And I shall, Juniper. Your truancy has been a problem far too long, and it's time you learnt a lesson. I intend to teach it to you with a proper spanking - 30 swats, no more or less. Now, I warn you, these will hurt - but you must retain your composure and count each one for me in a clear voice. Otherwise, I shall have to start again.'"

Luna takes his bedsheets in both hands, holding them over her face. "I'll try, Professor," she says. "But I'm scared that I'll scream."

Harry rolls up his sleeves. "'Oh, I'm sure you will, Juniper.'" He turns from the book and raises the spoon. "'I'm positively counting on it.'"

_CRACK!_

He brings the spoon down with high speed, and the swat lands perfectly at the center of her left bum cheek, bringing forth a lovely jiggle and an almost immediate blush of red. Luna tightens her grasp on the sheets. "One, sir!" she says in a strained tone.

_WHACK!_

Luna's head flies back as the spoon connects with her other cheek, sending her snow white hair tumbling over her bare shoulders. Her bottom, once snow-white itself, now bears two near-circular pink marks on each round side. "Two, sir!" she says, glancing over her shoulder with a glint in her eye.

Harry feels himself tumesce, his pants becoming tighter as he winds up for the third swat. _THWACK!_

Again and again, Harry spanks Luna's bare bottom until the bright pink marks have melded into a solid cherry red, and the heat from her heinie is like that of a caudron about to spill forth. Luna herself appears to be "spilling" in her own way: her privates are glossy with a growing wetness and she is crying out with each swat, a mixture of pain and pleasure that causes her legs to kick and a blush to stand out on her face almost as darkly as the blush rising in her bum. She begins to writhe, swallowing and stammering before her count - "_Nnngaah_! S-seventeen, sir!" - her naked calves crossing and uncrossing as Harry strokes her raw red tushy, her eyes crossing and a ridiculous, blissful grin passing over her face before the next -

_CRACK!_

"_Mmmpaoohoh_, gods, yes! Just like that, Professor, just like - oooowaaaha!" She kicks her feet, the burn in her rear end warm enough to warrant smoke.

"Juniper," Harry says. "Have you lost count?"

Giggling helplessly, Luna shakes her head. "N-n-no, sir. Eighteen, s-sir."

"Very good," he replies. "I'll not have a silly-headed girl who cannot count to thirty at _my_ institution. I wonder, though...if it became _forty_ strokes..."

_WHACK!_

"Could you count them all _then_?"

"Ooooowahahahaa my goodness _yes_, yes!" Luna can hardly contain herself, her stinging crimson behind shaking as she raises her knees to stick it out, as though pressing it into Harry's face might somehow ease the blistering heat. "Yes, Professor, I-I can count them all!"

"Then what are we on?"

"N-nineteen, sir!"

"Exceptional."

_CRACK!_

"Eeeaha! Twenty, sir!"

_THWACK!_

"Owwwhowaaaa! T-twenty-one!"

And so one, until Luna's poor bottom is as angry and scarlet as a howler, and she has tears spilling down her cheeks. When the forty spanks are down, Luna rolls over onto her ruby-red bum and spreads her legs, leaning forward to frantically undo Harry's trousers. He pulls off his shirt and his sweater in a single motion and enters her swiftly, seeing as she is already wet enough to leave a stain on his bed spread, and Luna howls in ecstasy as she knots her fingers in his jet-black hair. They are entwined in lovemaking until Harry lifts his head and announces that he is coming. Luna digs her nails into his back and reaches down to rub her clitoris in a circular motion as Harry grunts and gasps. They come together, clumsily kissing in the throes of it, then collapse, panting, side by side.

Several moments pass where neither of them says or does anything. Finally, Harry stands to go to the washbasin, and Luna grabs her wand from the night stand to perform a contraceptive charm on herself. Harry comes back and flops down on the bed beside her, staring at the ceiling. She props herself up on her hand and surveys his naked body with a knowing grin. "So," she says, tracing her fingers along his ribs, "did you enjoy _Juniper's Solace_?"

"Oh, _fuck_ yes."

Luna laughs. Harry takes his glasses from the nightstand and puts them on, sitting up on his elbows.

"Honestly, though," he says, still out of breath, "where on earth did you hear about that book?"

"They're everywhere, really," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "_Charlaquins_, they're calls. Enchanted books with boring titles that become dirty smut when you know the correct charms. Some of them actually become quite famous, and no one knows there's a secret text to them." She suddenly looks at him with wide eyes. "I've got it on good authority that our Divination text this year is a _Charlaquin_."

"_Reading Runes and Rites_?" Harry says in disbelief. "No way!"

Luna nods sagely.

Harry folds his hands on his chest. "Maybe we can get our hands on that one next."

Luna giggles. "Maybe." She shifts herself to be closer to him, draping her arm over his navel and her thigh over his legs. As she nuzzles her chin onto him, she says, "But that one's my favorite."

The book, which is resting at the foot of the bed still, has transformed back into its covert state: no longer _Juniper's Solace_, the spine now reads_ Warlock's Dismay: The Rise of the Enchantress in the Modern Magisterium. _Harry shakes his head at it and says beneath his breath: "Blimey." Then he turns to Luna, who opens one eye to him. "And you -" he begins awkwardly. "...you like to be...well, er...Juniper?"

She snorts, a pleasant tickle of air against Harry's chest. "You mean I like to be spanked?"

"Well, um, yes," he says. "I'm not complaining, really - I quite prefer the part of Professor Partridge. More dynamic character, you know." Luna giggles again, squirming to be closer to him. Harry peers down her pale form to the bright red encircling of her beautiful bottom, like two sno-capped hillocks tinged red as summertime strawberries. "But, er...the feeling of - of being spanked isn't...isn't..."

He trails off. Luna blinks thoughtfully, her huge, almost purplish blue eyes looking to the ceiling as she says, "It is. Painful, I mean. It does hurt, of course. But it's...well, it's hard to explain. It's a..._good _hurt. Feels quite nice, actually." Her long eyelashes brush against his skin, causing Harry to tense as the pleasure spreads. "I almost envy the Patil girls. They got it really good." Then she looks earnestly in his eyes. "But there's no one I'd rather have spank me than you, Harry Potter." She smiles. "You're the only Professor Partridge for me."

Harry smiles. He pulls her close. "You're really very weird, you know that, Luna?" he says. "But you're sweet, too. Really very sweet."

They lie awake together a while longer, chatting for a while about their classes and about the recent developments of Dumbledore's Army. Finally, a reminder charm Luna set for herself unfolds and issues forth a stream of confetti, signaling to them both that it is time for her to leave. As a Ravenclaw, Luna Lovegood is not allowed in the Gryffindor commons under any circumstances - it is only via a clever bribing of the painted lady that they've managed to sneak her in. Their secret tryst cannot be known of by anyone, even their closest friends.

Luna kisses Harry warmly at the door and smooths down her robe over her ripe-apple bottom, turning for one last glance at him before she goes. She exits silently, using his invisibility cloak for her passage back to the Ravenclaw dorms. Harry sighs as she leaves, then turns to return the _Charlaquin _to its place below his bunk.

Then he pauses. He waves his wand over the book's cover, and the color changes before his eyes. He crawls under his covers and reclines to continue his reading of _Juniper's Solace_, finally falling asleep with the transformed book on his chest.


	5. Chapter 5 - What's Up Her Arse?

Later that evening, Harry awakens to Ron stumbling into their shared bunk-room and collapsing drunkly on the bed. He reeks of butterbeer and love potions, and within moments he is snoring loudly. Harry sighs with relief; he'd left the _Charlaquin_ exposed, and if Ron had been in a more inquisitive state, he might have seen. But as it is, Harry can simply tuck the book under his bed again, no one the wiser of his secret affair with Luna, who Loves a Good spanking. He falls asleep again, dreaming of her cherry-red bottom poised for another round...

The next morning, Ron wakes him gruffly, dragging a comb across his head. "Get up, Harry," he says, his voice hoarse and his eyes puffy. "If I've got to be awake, damned if you don't too."

"What's happening?"

"Leader's meeting of the DA. Don't you remember? It was your bloody idea," Ron says. "Ginny, Neville, George, Fred, and Hermione are all giving reports. We're supposed to meet the lot of them for breakfast at the Hog's Head. And we're already late."

They were, indeed, running quite late. By the time they arrived, even the twins were hunkered down at a table. Hermione looks at them crossly - although, Harry thinks, she appears to be cross about something besides their oversleeping.

"Look who decided to show!" Fred exclaims.

"A wonder you made it, Ron," George says. "Three Broomsticks has had to order a new shipment, since you've passed all of their Berry Ocky Rot through your bladder."

"Four times filtered, now, it is!"

They both laugh. Neville joins in nervously. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"We're terribly sorry," Harry says, rubbing his eyes. "I know we haven't much time, so we'll get right to it -"

"You're actually not the last one here," Neville says. "We're still missing Ginny."

Harry and Ron look about the table and realize, for the first time, that the red-haired Weasley sister is nowhere to be seen.

"She isn't going to be coming," Hermione says quickly. Everyone turns to her confused. "She- she told me a few days ago. Must've slipped my mind." Everyone blinks, nonplused, at this admission. "Anyway, we should get started without her."

Fred leans forward. "Talking to our sister much, eh?" He raises one eyebrow suspiciously. "I saw her just yesterday at the Burrow, and she didn't mention anything."

"She asked me to tell you. I guess she assumed I already had." She looks down at her lap. "I-I'm sorry about that."

Fred looks like he wants to press the subject, but Harry interjects. "Alright, whatever. We have to start, anyway." He looks at the twins. "The two of you aren't allowed anywhere on the grounds since you've been expelled, and that includes Hogsmeade. If you're caught, it's over for all of us." He takes the Marauder's Map from his back pocket and spreads it on the table. "Now, Neville - let's go over the plan for the dragons one more time."

The matter is dropped, and the conversation shifts to an excited debate over how Neville should navigate around Filch to the tower where the dragons are being kept. At one point, someone mentions that he could take the invisibility cloak, and Harry waves this idea away. "We'll be using that for other things," he says dismissively, and the others seem to take is word for it. At one point, Hermione goes to the lavatory, and the twins demonstrate one of their newest prank inventions for Harry, Ron, and Neville.

"We're calling it 'Peeping Glass,'" says Fred, producing a sea-green piece of glass the size of a bifocal lens from his pocket.

"A tentative name," says George.

"You can use it for seeing what's under a girl's clothes," Fred explains. "You just look at her through the glass, and she'll look to you like she's standing there in her knickers."

"Give me that," Ron says, swiping the glass. He immediately and conspicuously holds it to his eye an scans the hotel, stopping at every your woman on the way. "Merlin's beard," he utters beneath his breath. "I need a telescope with this."

"It's in the works," George says proudly, taking the glass back to put in his pocket. "Just wait until you start seeing every wizard wearing a green monocle. We're going to make galleons."

"C'mon, then, let me have a look," Neville says, grabbing the glass from George and holding it greedily to his eye. He scans the bar, laughing to himself and occasionally saying, "Brilliant!" or "Wouldn't have thought..." then comes to rest at the end of the bar. He takes the glass from his eye and sits back with a perplexed look on his face.

"What's the matter?" Fred asks.

"Did you catch the bartender? Bit of a drawback, to be honest, but we're hoping it works itself out," George says, reaching for the glass.

"No, no, it's just...it's that..._Hermione_?" Neville says, pointing.

Standing at the bar with her back to them, Hermione is ordering herself another butterbeer. She rises onto her tiptoes and flags down the bartender with a raised hand.

"Oh, let's have a look, then" Fred says, sitting back to cross his arm. "I'll bet she's dressed to the nines under there."

"What're you so puzzled by, Neville?" Harry asks.

Ron leans forward. "Yeah," he whispers. "Is she...naked?"

"Have a look yourself," Neville says, holding out the glass in his palm.

Harry is the first to take it, and as he peers through it, he murmurs something profane. Then everyone crowds around it with Harry holding it at arm's length so they can see Hermione with her thighs bare, a white bra strap crossing her bare back, and her white panties lifted almost to her neck, forming a deep V shape that digs between her round butt cheeks in what can only be described as a truly spectacular wedgie. Once again, her waistband seems to stand there of its own accord, and Hermione's back is bent to accommodate the force - the boys see her shift uncomfortably, running her hand over one side of her bum as though to pull the panties from their magical implanting between her thighs.

Fred gives a low whistle.

George chuckles and drops the glass into his breast pocket. "Not what I was expecting, to be sure," he says. Then he looks suddenly thoughtful. "I did wonder why she was looking particularly uptight today. Now I know."

"Wait," Ron says slowly, looking to Harry. "She told us she was doing that to herself, didn't she? And that she just liked the feeling of it white she studied."

Fred and George burst out in laughter, practically falling over each other in their merriment.

Harry furrows his brow. "What's so funny? She _did_ say that!"

The twins are standing to leave, still guffawing and grabbing at each other's shoulders. Finally, Fred gains enough composure to says to the dumbfounded boys, "Oh, that's not self-inflicted. We've seen hexes like that - hell, we even tried making a product of it! But I don't think I've ever seen one quite so effectively before." He turns to look at George as the two of them walk away. Taking his brother by the neck, he says, "And to think - I almost asked, 'What's up _her_ arse today?'" At this, the twins fall into renewed hysterics, and they're laughter continues all the way out the bar.

Just as they leave, Hermione returns with her butterbeer and (a bit gingerly) sits down. She looks up confused at the boys staring at her intently. "Where did George and Fred go?" she says. "We still have logistics to go over!"

"They...said they had to man their shop," Harry says.

Hermione sighs, exasperated. "Well, that's just perfect. It's just impossible to get you boys to concentrate on _anything_ for more than five minutes, isn't it?"

And usually, the answer would be a resounding yes. But when Harry and Ron return to their quarters, and even later in the day when they're practicing for an upcoming Quidditch match, they both have only one thing on their mind, and that's the image of Hermione's undies yanked up to reveal her pert bottom and the small gap between her thighs. It's maybe the _only_ thing they concentrate on all day, until later that afternoon they receive a letter telling them to come to Umbridge's office immediately.


	6. Chapter 6 - On Your Way, Then

**Chapter 6: On Your Way, Then**

Dolores Umbridge walks with perfect posture. Her pink pants suit is absurdly manicured, the shoulder pads recently pressed. Each of her steps is precisely the same length, such that the _clack_ of her heels is rhythmic on the stone floor of the Lower Corridors. She holds her wand close to her chest, angled downward, and the fingers on her other hand seem to mimic the pose of the wand-holding fingers, as though to achieve some bizarre and fearful symmetry. She looks left and right as she _clacks_ down the halls, swishing her wand expertly to straighten boys' ties and button the girls' blouses to the top.

Behind her, complementing her own motionless "pleasant smile" and rhythmic _clacks_, an empty suit of armor with a red-feathered crest and an ominous sigil on the breastplate _clanks_ along in her wake. _Clack, clank, clack, clank - _the steps are in time, and when Umbridge stops, the suit of armor comes to a full stop as well.

Umbridge surveys the hallway, which is mostly clear now that she's passed through it with her golem - few students ever stay in her way long after they know which direction she's going. Which suits Umbridge quite well, seeing as she _hates_ the students of Hogwarts with an unbridled loathing one generally reserves for particularly horrid insects of the winged persuasion. But one student remains in her path: a Ravenclaw with a 7th year's uniform. Umbridge does not know the girl, and she warily tilts her head.

The student has dark eyes, caramel-tone skin, and straight hair reaching to her bottom. Her nose is broad and her eyes are dark, but she is undeniably pretty, with soft features and flattering bangs. Her raven-black hair is thick enough to have a sheen, reflecting the dim candlelight of the corridor. Her arms are folded across her chest.

"Dear, are you lost?" Umbridge says finally. "This corridor only leads to the chambers of first years." From the student's figure alone, never mind her uniform, Umbridge can tell this is no first year. Her breasts are full, and her thighs admirably lengthy and toned. To be honest, Umbridge loathes the good-looking students a shade more than all of the rest - it's difficult to perceive the difference, given that the original loathing is so extraordinary in the first place.

But the difference is there.

"I came...to talk to you, actually," the girl says. "My name is Cho Chang."

"Ah," Umbridge declares, pursing her lips. "Were you unaware of my office hours?"

"I tried then this morning, but," Cho's face blushes darkly, "you were...with some students."

Umbridge blinks, trying to remember. _Ah, yes_. She'd had a lovely chat with a couple she'd found snogging in the study area of the library. These days, students seem to only have a mind for two things: causing mischief and snogging each other. They hardly think of anything else! But for these two, she'd given them something else to think about: forty swats with a paddle on the bare gave them plenty to mull over. Oh, the male student had tried to be a hero, a knight in shining armor - said he'd take her strokes for her. As though _that _were the lesson at hand! To be sure they understood her fully, she'd had them stand side by side and write _The library is for study ONLY_ one hundred times on the black board, and each time one stopped, dropped the chalk, or tried to rub, the other received another ten strokes. By the end, it was the _girl_ who'd had over a hundred swats and a blistered bottom, crying and sniveling. _So much for our knight!_

So lost was Umbridge in remembering this that she nearly forgot the student standing right in front of her.

"Indeed," she says, outwardly smiling (but with a snarl in her voice). "That was a very urgent matter, not to be interrupted. You can try again tomorrow. Good day." She resumes her brisk walk, the suit of armor _clanking _in tow.

"Wait!"

Umbridge stops in place. The suit of armor becomes still, and the silence that seizes the corridor in the absence of its metal footsteps is almost as awful as the footsteps themselves. She turns to look at this _Cho Chang _with her eyes full of rage.

But if Cho sees the danger in Umbridge's face, she ignores it, pressing on. "It has to be now. I want to submit myself in someone's place. For someone else's...punishment."

_Oh, for the love of Pete, THIS again? _Umbridge's face twitches.

"It was my fault he missed class. I needed help for a test in Defense against the Dark Arts, and I begged him to help me study. So he shouldn't be punished for missing his potions class - I should." Cho bows her head, a lovely pink color, like rhododendron blossoms, rising to her high cheeks. "I want to take Harry Potter's punishment for him."

At the sound of Harry Potter's name, Umbridge's stiffness melts away. Her expression changes slowly, her brow unknitting itself and her taut lips loosening. As she turns to face Cho Chang fully, the suit of armor steps forward and does a rapid about-face to stand behind her. "Harry Potter, you say?"

"A-and Ron Weasley," Cho adds nervously, shrinking beneath Umbridge's gaze (although Umbridge stands at about three-quarters her height in heels). "They both helped me."

Umbridge steps back and clicks her tongue. "My, my. You expect to take _two_ punishments for other students?"

Cho is silent.

"I am afraid I do not make exceptions to the rules, Miss _Cho Chang_. Not even for _your _friends." Her voices drips with sarcasm, and she raises her eyebrows triumphantly. "Imagine that! Almost as though _you_ were not the very center of the magical world!" _The absolute nerve of these students, _Umbridge thinks to herself. She imagines the matter is settled, when...

"B-but it's not fair!" Cho blurts out. "He- he didn't do anything wrong. It was me. Harry shouldn't be punished when he only broke the rule because I asked him to. Please, professor." She folds her hands together, her eyes shimmering with tears. "Please. I'm begging you. Punish me instead."

_Unthinkable! Unimaginable! _Dolores Umbridge's mouth is open, and she's about to tell this _Cho Chang_ girl where she can take her please and _stick it_, when her more civilized instincts set in - and she suddenly has an idea. Again, her expression changes to hard-fast hatred to a peaceful, almost smug sort of tolerance.

"...I can see this is quite important to you."

Cho nods eagerly.

"And that is all well and good. You come to me in the hallway, interrupt me in my rounds - all very fine. You've taken my time and my energy because of how important this is. To _you_. But what are _you_ sacrificing, dear?"

Now Cho blinks. She stammers, confused, until Umbridge holds up her hand.

"Here is what I expect you to do. To _prove_ to me that taking Mister Potter's punishment for skipping his class is as _important _to you as it would appear. Rather than wasting my time, you will use your own. Follow my instructions very carefully." She leans in, and behind her, the suit of armor creaks. Her face has taken on the same pleasant smile as before, only now there is a glint in her beady eyes as she speaks in short, pronounced bursts: "You will go to edge of campus and find the Womping Willow. Cut a switch the length of your forearm, and bring it to my office as 3pm sharp - not a minute before or after."

"The...Womping Willow?"

"Do you imagine I stutter, Miss Cho? Hm?" Umbridge straightens her back, holding Cho's eyes steadily. "You will bring me a switch from that wretched tree at 3pm, and if it is to my satisfaction, I will make sure you receive a switching you will never forget. If it is not, or if you fail to show, Mister Potter will receive the punishment — and twice as severe. Is that clear?"

"Wh-what? But I-"

"Have I made myself _clear, _Miss Cho?"

Cho Chang bows her head miserably. "Yes, professor."

"Good. Then, since you have claimed to me that your desire to switch places with Mister Potter is of great importance to you, I expect you to make use of the next..." She glances casually at her watch. "...two and a half hours."

Cho Chang's eyes widen in fear.

Umbridge tilts her head again and gives another of her patently unsettling smiles. "On your way, then," she says.

Cho turns and practically sprints in the opposite direction.

"No running in the corridors, please!" Umbridge calls after her with her hand cupped around her mouth. She is grinning from ear to ear as she turns around to stride past the suit of armor, turning her wand between her fingers and congradulating herself for her own genius. She only stops once more on her way back to her office, and it is to admire her perfectly prim appearance in a corridor mirror. Her grin becomes wider, and as she turns to see the pristine pressing of her jacket, she mutters through her teeth: "Oh Dolores, you have outdone yourself. What have any of these little mongrels ever done to deserve _you_?"


	7. Chapter 7 - Switched

**Chapter 7: Switched**

"What are we going to do, Harry?" Ron is saying as they climb the steps to Umbridge's office corridor. He's feverishly running his fingers through his mess of orange hair, his mouth curved in an expression of horror as he takes the steps in twos to keep with Harry's pace. "Look, I can't take a caning Harry - Padma and Pavarti, they, they have _cushion_, right? Me, I'm scrawny, Harry! That - that _thing_ will break my arse!"

Harry hisses at him through clenched teeth, "Oh, _shut up_, will you? I'm trying to think!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, you'd better think of something quick," Ron says, eyeing Umbridge's door as they approach. He swallows hard and continues to glance sideways at Harry every few steps.

Meanwhile, Harry's own mind is racing, but for different reasons. Although the Dursley's never punished him with spanking or caning, he feels confident he'll be able to handle it. The main problem, to him, is whether this visit really is only about the skipped Potions lesson. He has this creeping suspicion that Umbridge has something else in store.

Despite Ron's whispered pleas, Harry strides to the door and knocks firmly. Within a few moments, the unmistakable sound of iron armor clanging and grating against itself can be heard at the other side of the door.

"You've really gotten us into it now," Ron says, clenching his eyes closed.

The door swings open to reveal the golem, the fire-warped breastplate and sinister sigil looking out of place in the tidy furnishings beyond. Harry and Ron step forward together - but the golem places it's hand against Ron's chest.

"Ah! Wh-what th-the -" Ron's face goes white and his lip quivers as he looks up into the eyeless space of the golem's helmet. Silently, it pushes him back over the threshhold.

"Wait, wait - we have an appointment! Here," Harry says, lifting the detention slip.

The golem fixes Harry with its cold, expressionless gaze. Without taking its fingers from Ron's chest, it beckons Harry forward into the warm and heavily perfumed study. Once Harry is through the door, the golem drops its hand. _FFMM-CK. _The portal slams shut and locks with Ron, looking beleaguered, ashen, and incredulous, at the other side.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Harry says, motioning to the pass. "Can't you read? The pass says -" And as he looks down at it again, he sees that the lettering on his detention slip has changed, as though the ink could slide off the page without a trace. Now the slip reads only his own name. He raises his eyebrows, bewildered. "...oh."

The golem turns heel and clanks down into the sunken landing just before a sharp turn leading to the main area. The walls are lined with bookshelves full of hardbound titles like, _Understanding & Commanding the Juvenile Wizard Mind _and _Unholy Tidings: How Acceptance of Magical Beasts into Greater Liberalism will Undo Magical Civilization._ All the while, as he's following the golem, Harry has to wonder at how brightly, garishly decorated every surface is. He passes a portrait of Umbridge holding a white poodle and waving with a gloved hand. He almost thinks to ask the golem where he's being taken...then thinks better of it.

At last, the golem reaches a doorframe, and Harry glimpses sight of Umbridge watching him approach. They step into the opening, and as the suit of armor steps aside and alongs Harry to see what's beyond its broad silver back, Harry can't help but hiss to himself:

"Oh, _bloody hell_."

There, resting on the desk with her skirt lifted and her white panties down around her ankles, is Cho Chang. Before she even looks at him with that pitiable expression in her eyes - a mixture of pleading and apology, the corner of her mouth twinged upwards - he can tell it is her from the shape of her buttocks, the way the smooth curves appear to cup her round and splendid arse cheeks gently above her well-defined thighs. Harry saw Cho naked once after a date in their 6th year, and although their relationship hadn't panned out, he knew he would never forget the sight. And now, Cho Chang has her perfect backside on display as she's bent helplessly over Umbridge's desk, her long black hair flowing and pooling like rivulets of dark water in the folds of the skirt laid across the small of her back. If Harry were able to look away from the marvelous twin rondures of her toffee-colored hind quarters, he might have noticed that there are twigs and leaves still caught in the tangle of her raven hair.

Professor Umbridge is leaning at the corner of her desk, watching with considerable amusement as Harry takes in the scene. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," she says. "I trust your friend Weasley was happy enough to be left out of our little chat?"

"What's going on here?" Harry manages to say in a stern and unwavering voice.

With the casual air of a woman fetching a saucer for her teacup, Umbridge steps towards Harry and motion to Cho Chang's bare behind. "Quite a sight, then, isn't it? Bit large, really, but a callipygian beauty she surely is." Umbridge flashes a smile. "Miss Chang came to me this afternoon. She insisted - really, _insisted - _that she take your punishment for you. She said she was the reason for your truancy: that you were selflessly helping her to prepare for an exam. What was the subject again?" She snaps her fingers. "Ah, yes - Defense Against the Dark Arts."

All at once, it dawns on Harry what must have happened. _She's trying to protect me,_ he thinks. Cho Chang must realize that Umbridge suspects Harry of leading Dumbledore's Army, and Cho is covering for the fact that Harry skipped a Potions Class to organize a meeting. It's brilliant, really: even if Umbridge _knows _there was a DA meeting, Cho is giving Harry an alibi with her story. And everyone knows that Umbridge won't make a move on DA until she's sure that Harry Potter will be one of the students indicted.

But what Cho doesn't understand is that, by injecting herself into the situation, she's brought Umbridge's wrath upon herself. Now Harry sees all too clearly what's about to happen: since Umbridge can no longer accuse Harry of what she wanted, she's now going to take it out on both of them however she possibly can.

And Harry is beginning to see how she's going to do it.

Umbridge circles around Harry until she's standing at his right shoulder, both of them surveyed the bared and untouched bottom ready to be spanked. "Now, I was surprised by this, Harry. And not because you chose to leave your Potions class - but because you've never been a student I would think to go to if I needed help academically." Umbridge shakes her head. "I have to believe that Miss Chang was completely out of other options if she chose to come to you, seeing as your marks are far from extraordinary."

Harry scowls. "Okay, Umbridge. What are you playing at?"

Umbridge raises her eyebrows, as though she were genuinely surprised that Harry might question the purity of her motives. She places a hand on her chest. "Me? Playing at something?" She clucks her tongue, appalled at the thought. "You really are so _conspiratorial_, Mister Potter. Always making everything about _yourself _versus _the rest of the world._" Then, shaking her head, she paces back to her desk. "No, no, Harry. I'm not _playing _at anything. I'm only here to ensure that discipline is upheld and justice is done. Which is why," she takes a long, fearsome looking switch from between Cho Chang's fingers, "I thought it would be best for _you_ to administer the punishment."

Cho looks back over her shoulder, her eyes full of fear. Harry glances at her round bottom — he can't help but think, despite how bloody awful this scenario is, really, that she really does have a nice behind. And, in a way...she really _has_ been asking for a spanking...

"After all, _you_ are the victim here," Umbridge says with a smirk. She places the heavy switch into Harry's hand, and the wood creaks, as though alive.


	8. Chapter 8 - Please Don't Say Bottom

**Chapter 8: Please Don't Say Bottom**

Meanwhile, in a corridor illuminated with yellowy light, Ron whispers the new password to the painting, which is "Satyr's kiev" and no longer "Limpid pools" (since a painting reported that she saw a student from a different house engaged in cohabitation with a Gryffindor, but was too scandalized to provide any details.) As the painting swings open, he scrambles through the portal and up the steps.

There's no one in the commons to relay his information to, so he slams open the door to the bunks and clamors inside, calling the name of every male Gryffindor he knows before realizing the room is completely empty. "Finn! Neville! Per...cy. Hm." He clenches his fists — where _is_ everyone? He turns and goes to the girls' dormitories and knocks firmly.

"Hermione! Hermione!" He knocks again, yelling into the enchanted peephole, which scurries about the door trying to get away from him. "Hermione, something is going on with Umbridge — she only took Harry, and I think she's going to kill him! She doesn't want any witnesses, Hermione! Hermione?"

He presses his ear to the door. Faintly, he can hear...a noise. It reminds him of the sounds they've heard at Hagrid's quarters whenever he's hiding a particularly dangerous beast he's decided to name "Nibbles" or something like that — it's a wild sound, punctuated by short bursts.

Ron steps back, confused.

"Hermione? Are you...in there?"

No response. Only a continued flutter of noise. The sounds of a struggle.

On more than one occasion, Ron has hoped for an excuse such as this one. Brandishing his wand (and whispering a prayer that the wild animal the girls are struggling with is some sort of nymph), he utters a special unlock charm his brothers taught him for the specific purpose of snooping about. The lock clicks, and he pushes his way inside.

There is no nymph at the other side of the door. Nor any wild animal, actually. But the scene Ron encounters is startlingly similar to the ones he'd hoped for. He has to blink twice just to be sure he isn't dreaming it.

"Blimey..." he whispers.

Suspended in midair above her bed, Hermione is dangling from the waistband of her panties. Her underwear is wedgied deeply between her two moon-white thighs, pulled so tightly into a string that the _V _is now a solid line, an _I_. Hermione's face is dark red, and she's straining from the pain of the wedgie alone — he breath is coming in gasps, her feet are flailing, and tears are welling up at the corners of her eyes. Her skirt is on the floor, and everything below her waist is completely exposed.

There's a book open on her bed to a page that will be important later.

But Hermione is not the only one levitating in this room. Just behind her, a wooden hairbrush with a decorative pearl back is hovering too — and presently, the hairbrush claps itself down with full, vindictive force on Hermione's exposed haunch.

_CRACK!_

The sound resonates, and Ron watches in amazement — his jaw fully open, hands at his sides — as a dark red welt rises on Hermione's already pinkened buttocks. Hermione squeals and kicks wildly, but only succeeds in drawing the wedgie tighter.

_CRACK!_

Another mighty wallop! Hermione utters a curse and clenches her fists. Her bottom emits glowing heat like forgotten coals, a lovely raspberry red that Ron can't help but gawk at.

Not that he's really trying to look away.

_CRACK!_

"Ron! _Ron!" _Hermione is wailing now, tears streaming down her face. "Ronyoubloodyidiotstopstandingthereand _HELP ME_!

_CRACK!_

"Gaaaahahahahaooooowwww!" Hermione frantically kicks her long legs, one sock dropping down her shin, until one of her shoes comes off and sails across the room.

"Oh, right!" Ron says, ducking to avoid the shoe. He hops onto the bed just as the hairbrush connects for another _CRACK_! causes Hermione to bawl out another curse and wriggle so hard her raspberry behind jiggles from her response as well as the impact. He takes Hermione by her waist, and she cries out a warning as the hairbrush winds up for another swat.

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwaaaaaa —"

_CRACK!_

The hairbrush deals another spank, and Hermione clutches at her smarting bottom, thrashing and calling Ron all sorts of awful names as he pulls her down to the bed. Ron, baffled and not a little distracted by his own arousal, calls out confused.

"What? What do you want me to do?"

"The _brush_!"

"The what?"

"Get the _brush!" _Hermione cries, her eyes wide with rage. Her underwear is pulling her back into the air now, and she presses her thighs together as a squeak escapes her lips. When the hairbrush lands another swat on her hot bottom, her eyes cross.

_CRACK!_

"The brush — right," Ron says, eyes darting up to the brush as it climbs for yet another round of smacks. Ron glances to see it's aiming for her right cheek, and with Hermione's fingers clutching a fistful of his hair, he lunges for the brushes handle and grabs hold. Unfortunately, he hadn't accounted for Hermione's body to jerk backwards the way it does, and so he finds his graceful arc between his thighs interrupted by —

"Oomph!"

"Eek!" Hermione's blush darkens as Ron collides with her partially exposes womanhood, the lips of which are peeking out as her undies are pulled deeper between her hot-crossed buns, complete with strawberry jam. Her hands fly to her crotch, and she accidentally slaps Ron's face —

"Hey, watch it!"

— just as —

_CRACK!_

"Mmmmmmother of —" Hermione screams, her backside now emblazoned with the shape of the hairbrush's back, occupying the center of her left cheek. She continues to rant the most inappropriate things she can call to her mind — "hobbit-fucking, troll snatch, pull the Queen in a headlock" — and Ron has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. As she flails, Ron catches a glimpse of her dark eye more than a few times. Between the two thighs, sheerly illuminated by an unparalleled ruby red, Ron sees his chance and lunges again, grabbing the hairbrush by its handle and clearing the edge of the bed completely!

"Aaaaaaaahhu_mph!"_

As Ron hits the ground, the hairbrush clatters lifelessly to the floor, and Hermione falls out of the air onto her bed with a heavy _thud. _For a few moments, they both lie there panting: Ron sprawled out on his back, and Hermione with her face planted in her comforter, her raw, scarlet bottom in the air.

Her panties are still firmly wedged between her butt cheeks, hovering now above her head.

Then, the silence is interrupted by the sound of Hermione's book sliding to the floor: _thwump_. Ron looks over at it, sits up with his shoulders against Hermione's bed, then takes the tome in his lap. Her turns the book around to see the page Hermione was reading. "'How to Reverse a Pair of Cursed Undergarments,'" he reads. "'Step one — note the degree to which your wedgie has progressed. If the waistband is at or near your neckline, you'll need' — Hermione, what's all this?"

Ron cranes his neck to see behind him, but Hermione doesn't move. Only her leg twitches, possibly to shift the underwear drawn tightly enough across her arsehole to give her an especially tender rope burn. He looks back at the book and continues to read.

"I thought you said you were giving yourself those wedgies," Ron says, standing.

Hermione mumbles something into her blanket that Ron can't understand.

"What?"

"I _lied_," Hermione says, turning her pretty face to glare angrily at Ron as he not-so-subtly looks down at her crimson tushy. "I was _embarrassed_ — understandably, I might add — and I wanted you both to leave me _alone_." She pushes off her belly and tries to sit up, but gasps when her bottom so much as grazes the comforter. She reaches back, cupping her left flank gingerly in one hand. "Bloody hex is _impossible_ to fix."

"So you've been trying to get rid of the wedgie this whole time?" He looks up at the fabric, standing to attention behind Hermione's head. "And it's still here, after all that?"

Hermione rolls her eyes as she's nodding, as though all of this were obvious.

"Then what the bloody hell was all that brush business about?"

"I was trying to break the enchantment, but it backfired. I guess the curse has protections built into it or something." She rubs her tender tushy. "Very clever ones, in fact."

"Well then, who," Ron struggles with the word. "..._cursed_ you? And why?"

Hermione bites her lip.

Ron sits beside her, but she shies away. Undaunted, he places a hand gently on her shoulder. "Hermione, you've got to tell us who did this to you. We'll help you get to the bottom of this!"

"Please don't say bottom," Hermione winces.

"Sorry," Ron says quickly. "But really, you need to let us help you. Who did this? We'll make them tell us how to fix it — honest, we will!"

Hermione frowns and bites her thumbnail. Her thoughts are racing, and she isn't sure which one she should choose to say. Of course, she knows who cursed her panties — she was right there when she did it! — but she can't tell Ron. Of all people, not Ron. Meanwhile, she's also wondering why Umbridge chose to only take Harry into her office; Dolores Umbridge can only ever mean bad news. And of course, part of her mind is focused on the splitting pain in her bum, and trying to remember if she's _ever_ been spanked that hard before — her granny had an arm, of course, but it's hard to imagine her ever being mad enough at Hermione to have swung so bloody _hard_.

Finally, she opts to say nothing.

"Hermione? Hermione, just tell me!"

"You're not supposed to be in here, Ron," she says. She stands, walking uncomfortably with her panties jammed between her arse cheeks, spreading them nicely. She picks up her skirt and motions for Ron to go.

"But —"

"Please don't say butt," Hermione winces again.

Ron opens his mouth, then closes it. He can't rightly help her if she doesn't want to be helped, can he? So he opts to leave and hope that when Harry gets back — _if_ Harry gets back — they can convince Hermione together. He closes the door behind him, only glancing back once to nod goodbye.

Hermione sighs, alone in the bunks again. She places both hands on her behind, feeling the warmth from her spanking dissipate slowly. She groans, knowing that tonight, she'll be sleeping on her stomach — no closer to breaking the wedgie curse.


	9. Chapter 9 - Follow Through

**Chapter 9: Follow Through**

_FWIP! FWIP! FWIP!_

"Follow through, boy — she'll never learn her lesson if you don't put your back into the swing!"

Harry grimaces, standing back from Cho's lightly singed heinie to observe the soft pink lines rising on her sit spots. Both of her buttocks are plump and firm, although her waist is slight and her shoulderbones stand out dramatically against the bare smoothness of her back. He can see her muscles tighten, hear the gentle _hissing _as the Whomping Willow switch cuts across her backside.

And he knows he'll have to swing harder. There's no way out of it.

"Did you know," Umbridge says, leaning on the desk beside Cho and leaning in close to Harry's face, "that this girl went and carved the switch herself? Right from the Whomping Willow itself! Nearly got herself killed doing it — so you'd best give her the spanking she's been yearning for, Mister Potter, shouldn't you?"

Harry breathes deeply and exhales from his nose. He catches Cho's eye and sees, despite her fright, that she gives a little nod.

So he steps back and lifts his arm, preparing to swing...and follow through.

_FWAP! FWAP! FWAP!_

"Mmmmpha!" Cho moans, kicking up her foot. She bites her lip as three dark red stripes, about the width of matchsticks, rise on her behind.

_FWAP! FWAP! FWAP! FWAP!_

"Ow! Oww!" She wriggles, and her lovely bottom clenches, bracing.

_FWAP! FWAP! FW-_

Harry's hand is stopped in midair, and Cho opens one eye, allowing her backside to unclench itself. Umbridge has her wand pointed at Harry's upraised hand, and a grin plastered across her face. "My, you're doing a wonderful job, Harry. Really — it's going to smart! There's only one thing...the _count_." She lowers her wand, and Harry feels strength come back to his hand. Turning to Cho, she says in an icey voice: "Miss Chang, I suggest we begin at one."

Cho whimpers.

Before Harry can react, Umbridge's firm hand comes down _hard_ against Cho's naked behind, clapping her solidly on the left arsecheek and drawing a cry of surprise.

"Oh!"

"I'll have no whimping and whinging in my office, Miss Chang," Umbridge snarls. "I do believe I've been quite patient regarding your multiple..._requests_."

Cho's bottom lip still quivers, but she sniffs and nods bravely. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am." She turns to Harry, her cheeks flushed a light pink. "I-I'm reading for my spanking, s-sir."

Harry can't help but shake his head. _This entire situation is just — just...well, let's just say I don't think Dumbledore would approve_. He lifts the switch. Just then it occurs to him, as he looks down at the blank canvas of Cho Chang's wonderful hindquarters: _do I approve, though_? And in a way, as a tingle goes down his spine, he has to admit — he does.

He brings down the switch.

_FWAP!_

"One, sir!"

_FWAP!_

"Two, sir!"

_FWAP!_

"Gahaha, th-three, sir!" Cho's voice quavers, and she bounces on her tiptoes. The red lines across her bottom are beginning to intersect with one another, crossstitching a crimson pattern over her tightly clenched bum.

_FWAP!_

"Oww! Four, s-sir —"

_FWAP!_

"Hnnnngh! Five, sir!"

"_FWAP!_

Cho curses loudly and balls her hands into fists. Umbridge reaches across and gives the other side of her bottom a hard _slap_, creating a matching handprint to the left. "Don't you dare use foul language in my office, young lady!" Umbridge snaps. "I don't care if you've got blisters on your britches, you'll behave!"

Cho gasps and apologizes in a squeaky voice. "Yes, m-ma'am!"

"Mister Potter, please resume. I believe you were at five."

"And how many more are there?" Harry asks.

Umbridge's face falls, and her eyes widen dangerously. Immediately, Harry knows he's asked the wrong question, but it's too late — the suit of armor steps forward out of the shadows, and Umbridge lowers her voice to a hiss. "You will continue to switch Miss Chang's bottom," she says, enunciating every horrid syllable, "until I _say_ you may stop! And if that is not satisfactory for you, _Mister Potter_, my friend can take your place.

The suit of armor extends its hand, as though to take the switch.

"N-no no, I'll do it!" Harry says. He turns back to Cho's behind, raises his arm, and swings desperately, connecting with the soft flesh at full speed.

_FWAP!_

"Gaha! E- Six, sir!"

_FWAP!_

"Ffffffmmmmaamph! Seven, sir!"

_FWAP!_

"Ow ow ow ow EIGHT, sir!" Cho's bottom is starting to glow pink beneath the web of scarlet lines, and the edges of her wide eyes glisten with tears. Her entire body tenses before each switch of the heavy switch.

Umbridge nods. "That's much better. Now, young lady, Mister Potter is doing you a service, here, whether you know that or not. Kindly thank him for teaching you your lesson."

Cho looks over her shoulder to meet Potter's eyes. "Th-thank you, sir. F-for my...lesson."

Harry can't help it. He's fully sprung.

"And you really ought to thank him after each stroke, now, don't you think?"

Cho nods miserably, then braces as Harry lifts his hand.

_FWAP!_

"Owch! Mmmm," Cho hums through pursed lips, her eyes shut tight. "Nine, thank you sir."

_FWAP!_

"TEN! Thank y-you, sir!" Her courage is starting to fade as the lines from the switch become more pronounced on her bottom. Her cheeks, which were once the color of coffee with heavy cream, are now displaying a row of matching lines on each cheek, deep enough to nearly reach her crack, and as they fade, they are now joining a deep, scarlet blush to match the dark red embarrassment on her face.

_FWAP!_

"Ooooiaaa! Omigosh! E-eleven, thank you, _sir!_"

Harry may have imagined it, but he's pretty sure he heard a pointed resentment in that last sir. Is he going too hard? He shrugs. _Too late to back down now. _He lays into Cho's backside for the twelth, thirteenth, and fourteenth strokes severely enough that the fifteenth causes her to scream openly and kick both feet until Umbridge places a spell to lock them in place.

And so it continues, until the thirteeth _FWAP! a_nd the desperate, sobbing, "Thank you, sir," stammered out through trembling lips and salty tears. Harry raises the switch again, but Umbridge takes his elbow.

"That's enough for now, Mister Potter," she says in a tone that almost approaches pleasant. She's clearly impressed and pleased with his handiwork: Cho's lovely bottom is fully cherry-red, with swollen marks at the center of each cheek that are literally hot to the touch. "You are dismissed. You've done some very good work, here."

"What about Cho? Can she come too?" Harry says.

"Naked? Into the hall? With her bottom alight as it is?" Umbridge says, feigning disbelief.

"N-no no, I mean,"

"Don't you worry about Miss Chang, Mister Potter. Her spanking is complete. I do, however, have one finishing touch to add to the lesson you've given her. So," she turns to him with her faux pleasant smile, her dark, beady eyes shimmering. "If you would please leave us."

"B-but —"

"Oh, I think we've enough butt here to handle," Umbridge laughs, grabbing a handful of Cho's reddened rump and eliciting a squeal. "You, Mister Potter, have a lovely day."

And with that, the suit of armor grabs him and escorts him through the hall, still trying to turn back to Cho. "Wait, hang on — Cho! Cho!" he cries, trying and failing to dig his heels into the carpet. The golem simply lifts him off the floor and deposits him roughly into the corridor.

The door slams shut at his back.

Harry rushes to press his ear against the door, but he hears nothing at the other side. Umbridge's ominous words continue to echo in his ears...but even still, the image of Cho Chang's bottom dancing under the switch stays imprinted behind his eyes.

Just then, a group of Slytherin's passes him in the corridor, jeering and mocking as they go. He recognizes Daphne Greengrass, a devastatingly pretty blonde with a permanent sneer. "Did ya get yourself caned, Potter?" she says, and the other Slytherins snicker and make obscene remarks. Pansy Parkinson sticks out her bottom, and Daphne gives it a hard slap. Everyone guffaws as Pansy pretends to be _little Harry Potter, crying with a hot bottom_. It's a showy sort of taunt that Malfoy, if he were ever around anymore, would have been annoyed by. But these other 7th years are eating it up. "You'll be just like that Hermione Granger, then. Been seeing her have quite a time trying to sit her fat arse down!" Raucous laughter rises from the entire group.

He jams his hands in his robes, readjusts himself (he hopes) inconspicuously, and begins the long walk back to the Gryffindor Hall.


	10. Chapter 10 - Their Turn to Cry

**Chapter 10: Their Turn to Cry**

The scene Harry returns to is, to put it mildly, disorienting.

Hermione is lying on her stomach in the commons, with the other 7th year girls milling about nervously. Her bottom is fully bared and a deep, seared red from what must have been a very recent spanking. Her panties are still held aloft by some invisible hand, which at this point has dragged them to the point where the waistband could easily fit over her head. Luna Lovegood is on her knees next to Hermione, mashing a yellowish paste in a wooden mortar and chattering away about melons.

He blinks and shakes his head just as Ron appears at his side.

"Mental, isn't it?" He says. "The whole school has gone absolutley _mental_."

"What happened?"

"Oh, god. You've missed quite a lot." Ron explains what he learned from Hermione: that the wedgie was actually _not_ an intentional spell, but a curse placed on her by..._someone_, who she still hasn't named yet. He then explains that she'd been trying to secretly undo the curse on her panties, but she accidentally triggered it to punish her with a hairbrush — "Flighty bastard, that one," Ron muses, although Harry has no idea what he means — and finally, he gestures to Luna Lovegood and explains that Luna is applying a balm she used to use on herself as a girl, which can make the sting fade faster. Apparently, having Luna into the commons wasn't an issue, even though her presence as a Ravenclaw is illicit. The painted woman in the picture seemed to _know_ her.

Even though Harry has heard the entire explanation, he's still at a loss for words. He surveys the scene along with Ron and the tittering girls, tilting his head as Luna begins to massage Hermione's cherry-red bottom with both hands.

Hermione glowers at them. "Enjoying the view, are you?" she says.

"Why won't you just _tell us_ who did this to you?" Ron counters. "That way we could do something besides stand here and look at your bum."

Hermione vigorously shakes her head, and then gasps as Luna's finger slips.

"Sorry," Luna mutters.

Hermione lowers her head, miserable and ceded to her humiliation.

Something occurs to Harry in that moment — something that hadn't before. He turns to Ron and says in a low voice, "Hang on a tic...you said she won't tell us who did this to her?"

"That's right."

Harry puts his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Well, I think I know." He guides Ron to the bunk rooms and closes the door behind them both.

"Oi, wait a minute," Ron says as he backs towards his bed. "First, tell me what happened in Umbridge's room. I thought you were a goner — you're not even limping!"

Harry quickly explains Umbridge's punishment, leaving out, of course, the secret thrill he got from painting Cho's perfect bum a bright red. Ron listens all the while, nodding in amazement.

At the end of the story, Ron repeats his new mantra: "School's gone mental. Bloody mental."

They hear a noise from outside, which sounds a bit like Hermione giving Luna hell because her fingers keep slipping. They consider reopening the door, but choose to ignore it.

"Anyway," Ron says, taking a wrapped chocolate frog from the suitcase under his bed, "You were saying you think you know who cursed Hermione?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry says.

He tells Ron about the Slytherins he saw outside of Umbridge's office — specifically Daphne Greengrass.

"Why would she mention Hermione, specifically?" he says. "She hasn't even been to Umbridge yet. How did she know she'd been having 'trouble sitting down?'"

Ron takes a bite of chocolate and strokes his chin thoughtfully. "True," he says. "But if it was just the Slytherin 7th years, why won't Hermione just tell us?"

"I'm sure she's just embarrassed. She lost a fight with them, I guess, and she doesn't want us to know."

"Good enough for me," Ron says, finishing his chocolate and licking his fingertips. "So what do you think we should do about it?"

Just outside of the door, a cluster of Gryffendor girls are wondering the exact same thing. Pavarti turns to Lavender, who turns to Padma, who turns to Luna.

"What are they saying?" Hermione asks from the floor. There's a bright sheen all across her bottom from the smeared in melon balm. Although she never likes to fess to it when Luna knows something she doesn't, Hermione has to admit that the balm is helping. "Are they talking about us?"

The girls look back at Hermione, her panties still standing in the air, suspended. Pavarti is the first to go to her. She stoops down and takes Hermione by the hand. "Don't worry, Hermione," she says. "We're going to help you fix this, just you wait. Soon, those girls will know not to mess with our Hermione — or with any Gryffindor!" She squeezes Hermione's hand and looks into her confused face, still slick with tears. "It's _their_ turn to cry."


End file.
